


Half Rights and Half Wrongs

by grasslandgirl



Category: American Vandal (TV)
Genre: ?? i guess as of season 2 at least, Bisexual Sam Ecklund, Canon Compliant, Dick Jokes, Eldonado, Friends to Lovers, Gay Peter Maldonado, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Season 2 SPOILERS!!, Shit Jokes, dylan and gabi both ship it lbr, eventually, rated teen for language and dumbass pining, theyre in love dont fight it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grasslandgirl/pseuds/grasslandgirl
Summary: in which Gabi is supportive, Dylan is surprisingly perceptive, and our two boys are hopelessly pining.aka. another iteration of the hc that Dylan Maxwell deadass thought Sam and Peter were dating from the start-"Peter was half right. Not that Sam would ever admit it, of course. Peter already thought he was too smart- between the documentary and everything- and Sam wasn’t about to tell him he was right about this, too. Him and Gabi. Specifically, his feelings for Gabi... And if Sam was being entirely honest, there was another reason he didn’t want to admit to Peter that his theory was half right."-"Say what you will about Dylan, Peter thought as he dialed his mom to pick him up. He was half right about a lot of things.But that meant, of course, that he was also half wrong."





	1. Everything That Was Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: Sam is very bisexual here, and so there is a little bit of him crushing on Gabi in the beginning, but FEAR NOT- eldonado is quick coming and it dives straight into pining pretty quickly  
> disclaimer #2: this takes place kind over the course of a long canon-compliant timeline, it starts at the end of season one, and ends after they finish recording season 2 in Bellevue, and have returned to Oceanside  
> disclaimer #3: this is like my second fic Ever,my first time writing for American Vandal or Eldonado, and I wrote this over the course of like three days, so be kind but also let me know if there's anything I can/should change or fix!!  
> disclaimer #4: this is ENTIRELY unbeta'd... whoops sorry for any/all fuck ups!  
> that all being said, please enjoy! this is mostly all already written, so updates should be quick between chapters lol

Peter was half right. Not that Sam would ever admit it, of course. Peter already thought he was too smart- between the documentary and everything- and Sam wasn’t about to tell him he was right about this, too. Him and Gabi. Specifically, his feelings for Gabi.

Sam thought he had been at least sort of causal about his crush on his childhood best friend; because, yes, she was incredibly hot and smart and she and Sam had been friends literally forever, but Sam knew he didn’t have a shot. She saw him as a best friend or a little brother, and nothing more than that. And he was ok with pining into oblivion for however long this crush decided to last.

And it would’ve been one thing if Peter had asked Sam about it on their own time. But no, he had to bring it into the stupid fucking documentary with some bullshit reason about how he painted the dicks to get prom cancelled because he didn’t want Gabi to go with Brandon.

So, yeah, Peter was half right- about the feelings part- and Sam knew that he didn’t really believe he did the dicks. But he still put it in the documentary. It’s one thing to admit a useless crush to yourself or to your best friend. It’s another to have it blasted across the internet for everyone- Gabi and Brandon included- to see.

So, yeah, Sam had his reasons for not telling Peter he was right about his crush on Gabi. But because he never admitted or denied the allegations about his feelings towards Gabi, people in and out of school took that as an admission of guilt. Or, at least, an admission of a crush.

He and Gabi didn’t talk about it, even after the episode came out, but it all kind of came to a head- dick joke unintended- when they found the texts about Brandon on Sara’s iPad.

“It looks like Brandon’s getting busy.” The words had slipped out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying. If Sam was being honest, he wasn’t all that upset about Brandon being outed as a dick and cheater, at least not at first. He had always been vocal- especially with Peter- about his dislike for the jock, which _might_ have had something to do with the fact that he was dating Gabi. So there was a brief moment of vindication when he first read the texts and realized what they meant for Gabi and Brandon. He had been right all along, Brandon was a dick, and Gabi deserved better. And in that moment of cocky relish, he forgot that no matter how dickish Brandon was, Gabi cared about him. And Sam- no matter the messy feelings in between- cared about Gabi, first and foremost, as his best friend.

Gabi had stormed off after his comment- which Sam knew he deserved- but it still hurt like hell. Other than Peter, Gabi was his closest friend, and she had been pretty close with the two of them over the course of this whole investigation. So to not have her there, to talk to and laugh with and bounce theories off of- especially when everything with Mackenzie came to light- really fucking sucked.

When he caught her at the prom after-party, all the butterflies and nerves he was used to feeling when he saw Gabi were overpowered by the relief of being able to talk to her again.

She forgave him- for the fans’ sake, they agreed- and Sam felt something heavy lift off his chest. She leaned her head into his shoulder, saying “I love you kiddo,” and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. There was some small part of him that was overjoyed to be able to hold her like this, without having to worry about Brandon or anyone judging. But that little part of him- the one with the butterflies and the nerves that was trying to memorize the smell of her hair- it was growing smaller and smaller. And as he sat there on the bench with Gabi, Sam let himself finally let go of his crush. Because he had meant it, what he said before. Gabi meant more to him than the documentary- she meant more to him than just about anyone. And if the past few weeks had taught him anything, it was that he wouldn’t trade her friendship for the world.

And if Sam was being entirely honest, there was another reason he didn’t want to admit to Peter that his theory was half right.

* * *

Dylan wasn’t the smartest person Peter knew, that was for sure. But there were times, over the course of filming American Vandal with him, that Peter was taken aback by how perceptive Dylan really was.

There was one time in particular.

Peter wasn’t in the closet, per se, but he wasn’t out to everybody in school either. Really, he wasn’t out to anybody. And it wasn’t that he was trying to cover up the fact that he was gay- because he wasn’t ashamed of it, and Peter was a staunch advocate for the truth whenever possible- but he was also fairly private. He didn’t see the need to share his personal sexual orientation with everyone he met. Or really, even the people he was close to. His mom knew, of course, Peter was pretty sure Gabi suspected, and Sam… Peter didn’t think Sam would have made his crack theory the way he did he dicks if he knew, so. That was that.

So when Dylan asked him about being gay, with little to no fanfare or warning, Peter was taken aback to say the least.

“How did-” Peter found himself stuttering out, “how did you know? Did someone say something or-”

“Nah, man” Dylan cut him off, seemingly unaware of Peter’s minor panic, “Ganj says I have good gaydar or whatever ‘cause I called her being gay as fuck back in middle school, but I thought it was like, obvious?”

Peter felt himself growing red, _did everyone know he was gay? Was he really that obvious? He might as well carry a flashing sign if_ Dylan _of all people figured it out_. “I… what?”

Dylan chuckled a little, taking another drag from his blunt, “I mean, yeah. With you and your man Sam and shit.”

Peter froze. _What the fuck_. “You think… Sam and I are- that we…? Fuck.” his breath caught somewhere in his lungs, and he started coughing.

Now it was Dylan’s turn to look confused, “Wait what? Why’re you freaking the fuck out, Pete?” He sat up, turning a little on the couch to face Peter a little more fully. Peter wanted to answer, but was trying to calm his ragged breathing. Slowly, he saw realization bloom over Dylan’s face. “Oh _shit!_ Are you guys _not_ together or whatever?”

“No.” Peter managed to choke out.

“Fuck,” Dylan said, drawing out the vowel and slouching back in the couch. He looked like he was reevaluating his whole world view, which was about how Peter felt at the moment.

“Why- why would you assume Sam and I are… together?” He managed to asked when his coughing fit finally subsided.

“You guys are like bros, but like it’s different than with me and the boys.” Dylan said, with an unnervingly pensive expression. “Shit, I dunno, I guess I just thought you guys were like me and Mackenzie were, fucking in love or whatever. All the, like, inside jokes and shit, and you guys are always looking at each other behind the camera during interviews and shit.” He frowned then, like he had thought of something that was even more confusing, “Wait, are you _not_ gay?”

Peter didn’t like being put on the spot, especially about personal things, it was part of the reason he preferred to be on the other side of the camera during interviews. But despite that, despite the fact that this was Dylan Maxwell, and despite the fact that Peter hadn’t really come out officially to anyone other than his mom, Peter said “yeah.” He sighed a little, letting the relief of being able to say that aloud wash over him. “Yeah, no, I am gay. You’re right about that, but you’re off on me and Sam; we… uh, Sam doesn’t- it’s not going to happen.” _That’s the truth_ , Peter thought, _enough of it, at least_.

But Dylan got this dopey- and surprisingly endearing- expression on his face, like he realized something. “Dude, you _want_ to fuck him!”

That was it, Peter was dead, he was in hell and this was his eternal punishment. He would be trapped in Dylan Maxwell’s living room for the rest of time, forced to sit on a lumpy couch while Dylan figured out all his deepest, darkest secrets. Because, of course, it wasn’t bad enough for Peter to be hopelessly in love with his probably-straight best friend, who was in turn crushing on _his_ other (female) best friend, but _Dylan Maxwell_ had to be the first person to completely figure it out, whilst looking like he had just figured out the world’s easiest puzzle.

Peter must’ve been staring, slack jawed and beet red, for too long, because Dylan reached out and waved a hand in front of his face. “Huh?” Peter muttered, shaking out of his reverie where this was all some terrible dream and he could go back to pretending not to pine for his best friend in peace. “God,” Peter said, dropping his head into his hands, “am I really that transparent?”

Technically, it was a rhetorical question, but Dylan took it as Peter genuinely asking; which, to some extent, he was. “Uhh, I dunno if you were transparent or whatever, but you were pretty fucking obvious. With all the fuck-me-eyes at your boy.” He shrugged a little, like this wasn’t the end of Peter’s life. Because if Dylan knew, that meant the Wayback Boys knew, which meant half the school knew, even after graduation, which meant Sam knew. Which meant Peter’s life was over. “Dude,” Dylan said, interrupting the beginnings of Peter’s breakdown, “if you wanna fuck him, just tell him. Cause like, he’s always staring at you like you’re staring him and shit.”

“What?” Peter asked, finally lifting his head out of his hands. It was one thing for Dylan to guess correctly about Peter’s feelings for Sam, but an entirely different one for him to claim that Sam likes him back. “What are you talking about? Sam has a crush on Gabi.” His heart sunk a little lower just saying that, having to bring all his pining to the surface and say it aloud. It fucking sucked.

“Uh… what?” Dylan asked, baffled, “I don’t know about Gabi, but Eckland is your _boy_.”

“My boy?”

“Yeah,” Dylan said. Like that clarified anything. “Look, dude, whatever. You and Sam are tight, and you want some of that ass, say something. That’s it. But I’ve gotta go, we’re gonna try to fuck with Janson again, ‘ _D_ _umb Old Man Prank part 2_ ,’ dude!” Dylan was laughing a little to himself as he grabbed his stuff, pushing Peter off the couch. Just like that, Dylan moved from one thing to the next, something Peter found equal parts comforting and disconcerting.

“Oh,” Peter heard himself say, as he was all but ushered out of the door, “ok.”

And then Dylan was in his car, blasting music and half waving out his window to Peter- still standing on his porch- as he sped off to Lucas’s.

 _Say what you will about Dylan_ , Peter thought as he dialed his mom to pick him up. _He was half right about a lot of things._

 _But that meant, of course, that he was also half wrong_.


	2. Back Into The Fray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick little chapter before the shit really hits the fan- pun intended. This one is set later than last chapter, sometime in January of 2018 where they're in the middle of working the Turd Burglar case, so spoilers for season 2 here on out! Chapter 3 and four will probably be up later tonight or tomorrow morning, so stay tuned and please hmu with those comments and those kudos!

Gabi was smiling at him in that knowing way which meant she knew something he didn't. It was the same one she’d had since they were kids, when she would sneak around and learn where their moms kept the cookies, and then not tell him. So, needless to say, Sam was a little unnerved as to what exactly Gabi was so smug about knowing this time.

“What’re you grinning about?” Sam groused, poking his computer camera, “You’re not even here; what do you have to be smug about?”

Gabi was still grinning. They had gotten into the habit of Skyping like this after she left for college, calling once or twice a month to catch up. “Oh, nothing,” she said, and he shot her another glare, “you’re just hopelessly pining again.”

Sam rolled his eyes and tried to fight off the rising blush. “Whatever, Gabs.”

“Deny it all you want, loverboy, but I know you, even from a thousand miles away.”

“God, Gabi, I’m in Washington, not on the moon.”

“My point still stands,” she called out. “Anyway, how goes the whole shit case?”

Sam and Peter were spending their winter in Bellevue, Washington, investigating a serial vandal case for a second season of American Vandal. After the first doc with Dylan and the dicks blew up online, Netflix approached Peter with an offer to stream Vandal professionally, and asked if they were interested in investigating for another season. So here they were, miles away from Oceanside, neck-deep in a shit conspiracy. “I dunno,” he said, thankful she had moved away from his hopeless love life- or lack thereof- “I think there’s more going on here than we know, and every theory we investigate feels like only digs us deeper into shit we don’t understand.”

“A shit pun, really?”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Unintentional. Anyway, speaking of, I think Peter wanted to head back to the school this afternoon and do some more interviews, so I should probably prep for that.”

“Yeah, ok.” Gabi nodded along, “Alright, well have fun with your shit pranks and the obnoxious prep school. And-” the gleam in her eye returned- “have fun with Peter.”

“Gabi!” Sam groaned, “I said to leave it! Nothing’s gonna happen, and it’s useless-”

“What’s useless?” Peter asked, sticking his head through the open doorway behind Sam. “Oh, hi Gabi,” he waved, noticing the Skype call still up on Sam’s laptop. Sam swiveled around in the chair to face Peter, his back to Gabi. He didn’t even want to think about the smug grin on her face. “What were you saying, Sam?”

 _Shit_ , Sam thought. “Oh, uh, I was just telling Gabs how useless it is for us to keep DMing the Turd Burglar. We’re not gonna get anything concrete from him, especially after the thing where he made you dig through poop.”

“What?” Gabi laughed, and Peter ducked his head in embarrassment, his hand rising up to run through his hair.

“Yeah, yeah, ok.” But Peter was laughing too, a little self deprecatingly. “Sam, we gotta go, we have an interview at 2.” Sam nodded, and Peter gave one last wave to Gabi, still on screen, before ducking back out of the room.

“Fuck,” Sam muttered, letting out a sigh of relief, “holy fuck.”

“That was close, Sammy,” Gabi said, “you know, this would all be a lot easier if you just talked to him…”

Gabi had tried to convince Sam to come clean to Peter about everything since the summer after his sophomore year. After everything with Gabi and Dylan and the dicks was all over, Sam realized he missed the investigations, late night theories, and editing sessions behind the scenes of Vandal. More specifically, Sam missed spending nearly all his time with Peter. And after he finally let go of his little kid infatuation with Gabi, Sam slowly started to notice that the way he felt about Gabi had slowly been replaced with similar feelings for his _other_ best friend.

He talked it all out with Gabi, since he couldn’t talk to Peter about it, and finally admitted- to himself and her- that he _maybe_ had the tiniest crush on Peter Maldonado. Which then, of course, grew into a not-so-tiny crush. Since the beginning of the whole catastrophe, Gabi had been on Sam to just be honest about his feelings to Peter, and that maybe it would turn out in his favor. Every time she brought it up, Sam said essentially the same thing: that his friendship with Peter was too important, especially with Vandal taking off, to jeopardize it by telling him how he felt.

And here they were, Bellevue Washington, living together in Chloe Lyman’s guest house. 'Cause what’s better than having an unrequited crush on your best friend? Having to live and work in close proximity with him daily. Not that Sam was complaining, and he wasn’t a stranger to seeing Peter soft and sleepy eyed, still plotting theories and editing footage at 2 in the morning, or catching him straight out of the shower, his hair still damp and his glasses off. Peter and Sam had been friends forever, and after their years of friendship, sleepovers, and film projects, both of them were comfortable being in each others’ personal space. But this time, it was different than when they were working on Dylan’s case. This time, everytime Peter did or said something stupid or cute- which was often, and usually at the same time- Sam’s stomach did this annoying little jumping thing, and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to vomit or (finally) pull Peter in for a kiss. So it was rough. But, he also got to see and work with Peter everyday, so it was worth it; mostly.

“I can’t, Gabs,” Sam said eventually, telling her what he always did, “and I have to go, I’ll text you later, ok?”

“Yeah.” She seemed a little disappointed, just like she did every time he refused to talk about his feelings for Peter, but unsurprised. “I’ll talk to you later, bye!”

Sam clicked the _end call_ button on his computer and collapsed onto his bed. He let his mind wander over his memories of Peter- just for a second, a dirty guilty pleasure- before sitting back up, rubbing his face, and grabbing what he needed for the interview from around the room he was staying in.

 _Here we go_ , he thought somewhat grimly, _back into the fray_.


	3. Falling Out Of Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back! This time with angst- you're welcome!!

After they found out about Brooke- or more specifically, Abby Samuels- all the pieces of the Turd Burglar investigation seemed to fall into place pretty quickly. Mr. Gisualdi did the advent calendar, Jenna the T-shirt canons, DeMarcus the pinata, and Kevin did the Brownout. Peter had to admit, he was a little torn about the outcome of the St. Bernardine vandalism. On one hand, they figured out who the Turd Burglar was, and got Grayson into the hands of authorities so that everything could come to light. On the other, maybe too much came to light. Gisuladi, DeMarcus, Jenna and Drew’s personal and private photos were all released for the whole campus to see. And to make things worse, they found out that Kevin, the guy Peter and Sam had spent all this time trying to exonerate for the Turd Burglar crimes, was actually guilty of the Brownout, and of his own volition. So it sucked that they spent all the energy trying to get Kevin off, when he was guilty the entire time; it felt like Dylan doing the dick in Shapiro’s driveway all over again. But overall, Peter had really enjoyed investigating the Turd Burglar at St. B’s.

And it obviously had nothing to do with the fact that he got to live and work everyday with Sam.

Peter reminded himself daily that they were best friends, and that was it. That his growing feelings for Sam- no matter what Dylan claimed- were never going to lead to anything. And he was ok with that, really. But it didn’t stop Peter from being a little sad to be going back to Oceanside after everything with the second season of American Vandal was wrapped up.

Yeah, he missed his mom and the other kids at school, but he had really enjoyed the sense of independence that living and working in Bellevue had given him.

“Pete!” Sam called, knocking loudly on the front door, “Come on, dude, let’s go!”

“Yeah, one sec!” Peter called back, grabbing his phone and wallet before heading out to meet Sam. He had to admit, it was still kind of weird to go out without bringing a video camera with. When they were working at St. B it felt like he and Sam didn’t go anywhere without a camera man or a video camera of their own. They never knew when a theory or new lead would hit them. Of course, they weren’t trying to figure out the Turd Burglar case anymore- or any case for that matter- so there wasn’t any reason to bring a camera with. Especially when they were just heading to get pizza for dinner.

Just the two of them.

_Not a date, this is not a date_ , Peter reminded himself mentally, as he climbed into the passenger seat of Sam’s car.

They sat in a comfortable quiet on the way to the pizza place, an old favorite of theirs called Alfredo’s, with Sam humming along to the radio and Peter scrolling through the American Vandal IG feed. They went inside and placed their order- half sausage, half mushroom, same as always- and sat down in one of the available booths. They talked for a while about getting back into real school work after being out working on Vandal for so long, comparing assignments and teachers. Once the pizza got there, they started arguing about possible future cases for a new season of Vandal. They still had to finish preliminary edits of season 2 before sending it off to Netflix, but Peter was already itching to get back into the field, interviewing and figuring shit out- literally and figuratively.

“Hey, uh, Peter!” Someone said from a little behind their booth. Peter turned in his seat to see- _shit_ \- Ashley Hanson walking up to their booth and beaming. Ashley was two years older than he and Sam- Gabi and Dylan's year- and was pretty, blonde, and had been in Peter’s Calculus class when he was a freshman. They ended up sitting next to each other for the second half of the year, and despite their differences, had gotten along pretty well. Somehow, Sam had found out that he was friends with her, and became convinced that Peter was in love with her- which he wasn’t. That being said, Peter never really corrected Sam either, though looking back he wished he had. Especially since Sam outed his “crush” on Ashley- as well as his American Apparel secret- on Vandal last year.

And here she was, Ashley Hanson, smiling at him and leaning against his booth. Peter was fucked.

“Hey Ashley,” he managed to squeak out. He hadn’t really talked to her at school after Vandal started gaining speed, and she’d been off at college for the past few years.

“I heard that you guys were back in town- Gabi said you were in Washington working on a new season for American Vandal?” Peter nodded, not sure how to respond, but Ashley kept talking. “That’s so cool, you guys, I can’t believe how big Vandal has gotten- you’re on Netflix! That’s amazing, seriously, people my school can’t believe that I went to high school with _The_ Peter and Sam from American Vandal! You guys are like celebrities.”

“Yeah, um, it's really great opportunity,” Peter said, glancing over at Sam, “we’re really lucky.” Peter frowned, finishing his thought. Sam wasn’t looking at him, but was staring at Ashley with a grimace-like smile on his face, the one he wore when he didn’t like the person he was talking to, and didn’t care if they knew it. “So you’re back in town…?” Peter trailed off, looking back up to Ashley and directing his question to her.

“Oh, yeah, for spring break! I was just stopping in town on my way to Santa Cruz, I’m meeting a bunch of friends there and we’re gonna roadtrip!”

“That’s awesome,” Peter said, and tried to think of what else to say. Back in high school, he and Ashley had mostly talked about Calculus, which didn’t seem as viable a conversation topic now.

“Yeah,” Ashley said, glancing over at Sam, who was still silent, and had taken to full on grimacing at the table. “Um, well, it was uh, good to see you Peter,” she continued, “I really enjoyed Vandal, you know, and if you ever wanna catch up sometime,” she shrugged, effortlessly casual, “you can find me on insta.” Peter nodded again, he was starting to feel like a bobble head doll. “Cool. Bye Sam, bye Peter!” Ashley gave a tiny wave and went to go sit at another booth across the restaurant with some other people Peter vaguely recognized from a couple years ago at Hanover.

“Bye,” he said, but he was pretty sure she was already out of earshot. _What was that about_ , he wondered. _What did she mean about enjoying Vandal and him wanting to catch up and- oh_. Realization dawned on him in the worst possible way. _Oh no_. _Ashley Hanson thought he_ liked _her_. Peter felt a bright red blush bloom across his cheeks, and he was glad Ashley had walked away before he realized what she meant. “Oh my god,” he muttered aloud.

Peter looked back to Sam, sitting in the booth across from him, and was taken aback to find his friend looking at him with the same vitriol he had already leveled at Ashley and the table. “Congrats,” Sam said, his voice forcibly chipper, “looks like Ashley Hanson has a thing for you now that you’re famous.”

“Sam, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Sam just looked at him. He looked immeasurably sad for a split second- but it was gone so quickly Peter wondered if it was ever there- and then shook his head. “I’ve gotta go,” he said, grabbing his phone and his jacket, “do you need a ride?” He asked, almost as an afterthought, and Peter wondered what he or Ashley had said to make Sam so upset.

Peter shook his head, “I’ll just call my mom or an Uber or something,” he said, also moving to grab his stuff scattered across the booth and table. Sam was standing at the head of the table, jacket on, with his arms wrapped almost protectively around himself.

“You sure?” _What was going on?_ Peter wondered, _one second he’s pissed and running out the door, and the next he’s backpedaling and all worried about me?_

“Yeah.” Peter made up his mind, getting up to stand next to Sam by the table. “I’ll just walk home or something it’s not that-” Suddenly, a loud crash of thunder, and the unmistakable sound of heavy rain hitting the roof. “-far.” He finished, with far less conviction than he began.

Sam pursed his lips, staring at Peter, but he couldn’t read his expression. Without realizing it, Peter had moved to mirror Sam’s stance, his arms wrapped around himself defensively. “I’ll drive you.” Sam decided, his voice leaving no room for argument, and started walking towards the door. Peter nodded- he kept doing that- though Sam couldn’t see him, and jogged the first few steps to catch up.

Peter gave a small half wave to Ashley and her friends as they walked by, following Sam out the door, and told himself he didn’t notice her wink at him. Ashley was nice and all, but she was also in college at least an hour away, and Peter was busy with editing the second season of Vandal. That, and she was a girl; and Peter was so _very_ gay.

Which his insurmountable crush on Sam would never let him forget.

Sam and Peter dashed through the rain, and jumped into the car as quickly as they could. Peter was damp, and Sam cranked on the A/C as soon as he turned the car on, probably in the hopes that it would dry them off, at least a little, but all it did was make Peter cold through his hoodie. They were silent on the drive back to Peter’s, just like they were on the drive to Alfredo’s, but it was different this time. It was awkward and the unspoken tension sat like heavy, humid soup between them. Sam didn’t turn on the radio. Peter didn’t look at his phone. They just sat in an uncomfortable silence and watched the storm through the windows as Sam drove Peter home.

It felt like forever- though it was more like 10 minutes- but they finally got there. It was still pouring down rain. Normally, Sam would come inside after pizza and they would edit Vandal. Or, at least, they would spend 30 minutes editing Vandal before giving up and watching a movie, curled up on the couch, on Peter’s laptop. This wasn’t a normal time.

Sam stared out the window, resolute in his decision not to look at Peter- for reasons he still didn’t understand. And if there was one thing Peter hated, it was not understanding things.

_Fuck it._

“Why’re you pissed at me?” Peter’s voice cut the silence like a knife.

“I’m not pissed at you.” Sam said, but his voice was devoid of conviction and he was still staring out the windshield at the rain.

“Really?” Now Peter was getting pissed. “Cause something happened at Alfredo’s and you completely shut down and basically ran out the door, and now you’re not talking to me. So clearly you’re pissed about something.”

“I’m not pissed at you.” Sam repeated through gritted teeth.

“Then what the fuck is going on?” Peter yelled, turning in the passenger side seat to face him. “Did I say something? Did I do something? Do you have a vendetta against Ashley Hanson that I don’t know about?”

“No, of course not!” Sam exploded. “Perfect Ashley Hanson! Famous Peter Maldonado! A match made in fucking heaven! What do I have to be pissed about?”

“What the fuck do you mean _a match made in heaven?_ Who said anything about me and Ashley Hanson?”

“She did!  _'_ _Oh Peter you’re so famous, oh Peter you’re so smart with your documentary on Netflix!’_ And I didn’t see you doing or saying anything to dissuade her! And why would you?” Sam scoffed, “You’ve been in love with her since freshman year; you’re probably over the moon! _Congratu-fucking-lations!_ ”

“I’m not in love with Ashley Hanson!” Peter yelled back, and then froze, realizing too late what he had said. He gulped, steeled himself, and continued. “I’m not in love with Ashley Hanson,” he repeated, but quieter this time. He said it, not as a defensive rebuttal, but as an honest confession. “I never was, actually.”

Sam’s face fell quickly from anger to resignation to confusion. “But… freshman year, you kept talking about her in your calc class? And you put what I said about you being in love with her in Vandal.”

Peter sighed, “Yeah, well, I thought it would be easier to let you think I was in love with her than to tell you the truth.”

Peter’s heart cracked a little as Sam looked at him with an expression of sad betrayal. “What are you talking about.”

_Fuck_ , Peter thought, _here goes nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, look, i know it probably doesn't heavy rain like this wherever they are in california, but its called ARTISTIC LISCENCE and I WANTED IT TO RAIN SO IT RAINED because reasons. so dont @ me


	4. Here Goes Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look whos BAAACK  
> sorry for the delay y'all, this chapter's been written for a while, but I lost power for over 24 hours yesterday/today, and it's hard to write/edit/post on mobile so I had to put off posting this til now- but here it is!  
> as some of you may notice, the chapter count was bumped up to 6! god help me i can't stop writing lmao; chapter 5 is already written, but I like to finish the next chapter before posing the new one, so hopefully 5 will be up tomorrow sometime and 6 not long after that! please keeping leaving comments and kudos, they really give me life, and please ENJOY!

Sam’s heart was racing- a combination of the anger he had been sitting on since they left Alfredo’s, adrenaline from driving in the storm, and proximity to Peter- especially when he was looking at him like _that_ , all soft and sad and earnest. It made it really hard to be mad at him. But a ball of anxiety was building up in Sam’s stomach and his mind kept racing through the worst possible things Peter could have hid from him: he was in love with Gabi; he was dying of cancer; he was a figment of Sam’s imagination; he was in love with _Dylan_ ; and on and on.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, and Sam forced himself not to reach out and tuck a wayward strand back behind his ear. _You’re mad at him, dammit_ , he reminded himself, _and you can’t do that even if you weren’t in the middle of a fight_.

“I’m…” Peter started, and then hesitated, his tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously. He let out a quick exhale, and then said it all at once, so fast Sam almost didn’t catch it. “I’m gay.”

Sam froze, a single thought running through his head- _no fucking way_ \- before his heart jumped back into overdrive, returning to its previous racing pace, but in double time. Sam wasn’t sure how long he sat there, blankly staring at Peter, until he finally managed to choke out a strangled, “huh?”

Peter’s face crumpled, just a little, but he repeated himself, “I’m gay.” He was scanning Sam in the way he did when they were interviewing people for the docs. Like he was searching their entire face for their every thought and feeling, determined to find the truth. Sam prayed he wouldn’t be able to see his truth, scrawled on his face like a brand- _I’m in love with you_ \- because that’s how it felt.

Sam took a steadying breath, and made himself nod a little. “Cool,” he said softly, “yeah, ok.” And the relief that washed over Peter’s face when he said that gave Sam enough courage to say what came next: “I’m bi.”

“Cool,” Peter repeated, nodding like a bobble head. “Sam, I-” he continued, but at the same time Sam spoke.

“Peter, I need to-” They both broke off, and there was a tense beat where neither boy knew who- or what- was going to break the silence. Then, they both started laughing. Just like that, the tension that had been almost tangibly permeating the car dissolved, and Sam felt a weight lift off his heart. “You go,” he said, when their laughter died down, but Peter shook his head.

“No way, I went first last time, it’s your turn.” Peter was still smiling, and he looked leagues less tense than he had mere minutes before, but there was a nervous tinge to his voice that gave Sam pause.

“Right.” He said, looking down at his hands, out at the empty street, past Peter towards the house- anywhere but at Peter. “Well, uh, here’s the thing.” He forced himself to meet Peter’s eye. This was it. “I-”

Peter’s phone rang. A loud, obscure ringtone- some reference from a movie that Peter made him watch years ago, one that he probably fell asleep during- echoed through the car like a gunshot, shattering the moment. “My mom,” Peter muttered, picking up his phone and typing a response, “she, uh, wants to know when I’ll be home.” Sam forced an ironic smile, but it felt tight, even to him. “Um,” Peter paused, fiddling with his phone, “I should- I should go.” It was a statement, but he almost made it sound like a question. Like he was asking Sam whether or not he should go inside.

Sam nodded, and turned back to face the road, “No, yeah, you should go while there’s a break in the storm.” While they had been shouting, the storm had stopped, there was only a light drizzle falling on the car now, any lightning was far off on the horizon. He heard Peter murmur assent and say goodbye, and Sam raised a hand in farewell, but he didn’t turn to watch Peter go. He didn’t want to know whether there was a look of regret or relief on his face.

Sam couldn’t believe how close he’d been to telling Peter everything- for better or for worse- and he didn’t know whether he was grateful or heartbroken that Mrs. Maldonado had texted when she did.

He dialed Gabi’s number from memory, put her on speaker, and drove away from Peter’s house. He forced himself not to look back at it before he turned the corner. Not because Peter would ever know, but Sam wanted to maintain whatever small semblance of dignity he had left.

“Hey,” Gabi’s voice crackled through his shitty phone speakers, “what’s up, it’s like 9 PM on a Friday, why’re you calling me?”

“I told him.”

“ _W_ _hat!_ ” Gabi shrieked, and Sam flinched a little at the volume of her voice, but chuckled a little at her excitement and disbelief. “I’m sorry,” she cleared her throat dramatically, “let me try that again; what?” She repeated, but this time at a reasonable volume.

Sam full on laughed at that, it was so Gabi- so familiar and comforting. “Technically,” he corrected, hating to burst her bubble, “I told him part of it.”

Gabi didn’t answer for a beat before impatiently saying, “well which part? Are you going to make me interrogate you for every detail of this? What happened?”

“We had a fight, I was being stupid about running into Ashley Hanson at Alfredo’s, and I accused him of being in love with her- cause I thought he had been since freshman year, right?- and he just yells at me that he’s gay.” Sam took a shaky breath, “like gay-gay, and then I told him I was bi.”

“And…” Gabi prompted.

“No _and_. That was it.”

“You went through all that and you _still didn’t tell him_?”

Sam sighed, tightening his grip on the steering wheel in frustration, “I was _going_ to,” he admitted, “I was going to tell him, but his mom texted him right when I was about to say something and the- the moment was gone.”

“So? And?” She asked.

“And so he went inside, we were sitting in the car outside his house, and he just went in. Then I called you and that was it. Here we are.”

“Shit, Sam, I love you kiddo, but you are a fucking moron.”

Sam pulled into his driveway, turned off his car, sighed, and dropped his head onto the steering wheel in defeat. “I know.”

Gabi sighed, a muffled sound through the phone, “Do you want me to come over? Watch a movie? I know that’s you and Peter’s thing but…” She trailed off, uncertain.

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding even though he knew she couldn’t see, “I’d like that.”

“Anything for you, kiddo,” Gabi said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “You’re just lucky I’m in town from spring break.”

Sam smiled, she was right- he was lucky to have her. “Ok, ok, whatever, I’ll see you in a sec.”

“Bye Sammy!” She called before a sharp _click_ signified she had ended the call from her end. Sam heaved one last sigh before picking his head up off the steering wheel and lugging himself out of the car.

 _You know_ , he thought, as he climbed the stairs up to his room, _considering everything, tonight could have gone a lot worse_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what I love? Gabi calling Sam 'kiddo' that's some good canon shit right there folks  
> bonus- guess who's coming back next chapter? here's a hint: he's a fan favorite and an iconic eldonado shipper!! stay tuned, xox


	5. String Theory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO AGAIN

_What was Sam going to say?_ Peter wondered for the millionth time. If you asked him, Peter would fervently deny obsessing over every detail of his and Sam’s argument-turned-confessional the night before, but the fact that he was increasingly tempted to start plotting out facts and theories on his whiteboard said differently. At 11 AM on Saturday morning- 14 hours after their argument in the car- Peter banned all thoughts of Sam, specifically Sam’s near-confession, from his head. He had spent most of the night before, and nearly all morning thus far,  running through the entire conversation over and over again in his mind; trying to figure out what Sam was going to tell him. That was, at least, before Peter’s mom had texted him and broken the moment. _Thanks a lot, mom_.

The ban-on-thoughts-of-Sam lasted all of twenty minutes, after which Peter finally crumbled and pulled out his whiteboard.

Listing and organizing theories and facts on the boards during investigations was typically more Sam’s thing than his- especially with his affinity for string- but Peter had to admit, it was helpful. He had gone full Vandal on the case, but to no avail. He still had no idea what Sam was going to admit to, and he didn’t know whether that was because Sam was especially good at keeping things from him- a disconcerting thought- or because Peter was just oblivious- which was only a slightly _less_ concerning thought.

Peter collapsed face first onto his bed, and thumped his head onto the mattress a few times for good measure- maybe it would help him think of something, _anything_ , that he had missed. A tiny hopeful voice in the back of his head- one that sounded worryingly similar to Dylan- whispered that maybe Sam was going to admit to feeling the same way Peter did.

 _No_ , Peter shook his head in the hopes of getting rid of the wayward thought. _There's no point in getting my hopes up and losing my objectivity._ Not that Peter was ever very objective when it came to Sam. His burgeoning feelings back in sophomore year were part of the reason he went so in depth in his Sam-and-Gabi-dick-theory. He tried to counterbalance by being more critical of Sam's possible motives, but it ended up biting him in the ass.

Peter let out a low groan, all his theorizing was leading him nowhere. Which wasn't exactly surprising, because there was a reason Sam was the one who spearheaded the theory sessions in Vandal. Peter was good at finding information, facts, and stories- but putting them together? Not so much. It was terrible and ironic that the one person he wanted to talk to about all this was the one person he _couldn't_.

Maybe he could swallow his pride and let it all out there. Peter had been an advocate for the truth for most of his life, and it was kind of eating him up inside not to tell Sam how he felt. Maybe this was it, maybe the conversation the night before was the catalyst that drove Peter to spill his guts. Even though the thought of telling Sam made Peter nauseous.

It wasn’t just that Sam was Peter’s best friend. He didn't have a Gabi the same way Sam did, and as much as he enjoyed hanging out with Dylan, even after they finished shooting Vandal, it wasn't the same. Sam was his best and closest friend, full stop. Peter just didn't want to be the one who ruined the friendship he and Sam had, just because he couldn't get over some stupid crush.

 _There’s too much on the line,_ he told himself for the millionth time, _between seasons of Vandal and college on the horizon, I can't afford to lose Sam._

Because that's what it came down to. Peter needed Sam; and he had since they first became friends in elementary school. They had been two peas in a pod, even back then, and Peter couldn't imagine his life without him. _It's better to have him just as a friend than not at all,_ Peter told himself over and over again. But every time he did, it became a little harder to believe.

His phone buzzed from where he had thrown it earlier on his bed. Looking at it, Peter was taken aback to see that Sam had texted him- it felt like he was reading his mind.

_Sam: hey r we still on for movie night tonight?_

It was a fairly innocuous text, but reading it still made Peter’s stomach squirm. Movie night was an Ecklund-Maldonado institution, dating back to middle school. Even before Peter had gotten into _making_ movies, he had always been into watching them, and he and Sam had spent almost every weekend of their adolescence watching- and rewatching- every movie they could get their hands on. They had drastically different tastes. Peter preferred underground indie flicks and award winning classics, while Sam was a sucker for superhero movies and the occasional romcom. But they tolerated each others’ choices well enough. And anyway, the argument about the merits of various films or continuity errors was part of the fun. As they got older, and subsequently had less time to sit around and watch movies, they had ended up dialling movie night to one Saturday night a month, which _of course_ was scheduled to be tonight.

Aiming for nonchalance, Peter texted Sam back.

_Peter: yeah sounds good- at mine?_

Succinct, to the point, and with no indication of Peter’s inner turmoil surrounding the events of last night. Perfect.

_Sam: k see u at 8_

Now all that was left was for Peter to figure out how he was going to survive movie night without going crazy or telling Sam everything.

Peter had a few hours before Sam was supposed to come over, so he took a few minutes to hide away his failed attempts at theorizing, and went to the kitchen to check for popcorn- a movie night necessity.

“Mom?” He called out, “where’s the popcorn?” He dug a little further into the cabinet, movie around various bags of chips, hoping to find at least one bag hiding in the outermost recesses of the shelf, but to no avail.

“What’d you say, sweetie?” His mom asked, popping her head into the kitchen.

“Do we have any popcorn?” Peter responded, pulling his out from inside the cabinet. “Sam’s coming over for movie night and I can’t find any.”

“Actually, I think I popped the last bag last week,” Mrs. Maldonado winced, understanding the full importance of having popcorn at movie night. “When’s Sam coming over? Do you have time to run to the store and pick some up?”

Peter did, in fact, have the time to run to the store, though the storm from the night before still hadn’t completely passed, leaving the sky dark and ominously cloudy. He drove to the store as quickly as he could, jogging straight to the popcorn aisle and grabbing a couple microwave bags. The kind with the movie-theater butter, obviously. He also grabbed a bag of candy and a two liter of soda on the way to the check out, because why not. Maybe the extra carbs and caffeine would lessen the tension left over from last night.

“Holy shit, Pete!” Dylan’s called out from behind Peter, causing him to turn around with a start.

“Oh, hey Dylan,” he said, smiling a little as he dropped the groceries he was carrying to pull Peter in for a one armed hug.

“What is up dude?” Dylan was grinning, “It’s been so long, how's your boy Ecklund?”

Peter felt his smile thin a little, remembering his conversation with Dylan, nearly two years before, about Sam being ‘his boy.’ Or, technically, about Sam _not_ being his boy. “We’re- he’s good, no, yeah, it’s been good. We got back from Washington a few weeks ago, so it’s been crazy with school and editing and everything, but yeah we’re good.”

“Riiight! You guys got a second season for my documentary! You’re welcome for that!” Peter couldn’t tell if Dylan was being genuine about it being ‘his documentary’ or fucking with him- both were possible- but he smiled anyway. It was so classic Dylan, it made Peter a little nostalgic for back when they were still making a high school documentary and uploading it to Vimeo.

“Right, yeah. How’ve you been, though, man? How’re the boys and the channel?” After American Vandal went viral, the Wayback Boy’s youtube channel gained popularity as well. Not really ever to the same extent, but Peter was pretty sure they still had a pretty regular following.

“Dude,” Dylan said, dead serious, “Wayback Boys TV is going hard as fuck. We just put up a new prank video- Pissing on Dogs- and it’s already got, like, 500 views.” Peter just smiled, nodding. As different as he and Dylan were, Peter had to admit there was something infectious about Dylan’s enthusiasm for his channel and humor about life. “But wait,” Dylan said, raising both hands, “what about you and Ecklund? Are you getting some yet?” Peter cringed, trying not to blush. He should’ve expected this, really, ever since he came out to Dylan the summer after his sophomore year, Dylan had been his biggest advocate for all things Sam-related. Specifically, getting Peter and Sam together-together, which was probably due to the fact that Dylan spent the entire process of Vandal, and the rest of his senior year, thinking that Sam and Peter were _already_ dating.

It was a little complicated, but most things with Dylan were.

“I- no, Dylan.” Peter grimaced, “I’ve told you, nothing’s gonna happen. I can’t-”

“Why not, man?” Dylan interrupted him.

“I’ve told you, there’s too much-”

“No, yeah, I mean I’ve heard you talk about how you’re a fucking coward. But you don’t have any like _real_ reasons. Dude, if I had been a wimp about talking to Mac back in the eighth grade, we never would’ve gotten together, and I like loved her.”

Peter paused, “You guys broke up two years ago because she was cheating on you…”

Dylan frowned, this was not the point he was trying to make. “I mean, yeah, but we were together for like five years. That’s still a lot.”

Despite the inarticulate wording, Peter kind of got what Dylan was trying to say. That even though things with Mackenzie crashed and burned, he still got a bunch of happy years with her- years he never would’ve had if he didn’t have the balls to go for it.

“And you and Sam aren’t me and Mac,” Dylan continued, “neither of you are gonna get accused of spray painting dicks, or start taking your clothes off on twitch. You’ve got, like, the real shit.”

Peter sighed, looking at Dylan’s earnest expression. He wished things could really be that cut and dry, but they weren’t. Right? “Thanks, Dyl, I’ll think about it.” The older boy smiled, a wide dopey grin that cut across his face, and slapped Peter on the shoulder.

“It was good to see you, man!”

“You too, Dylan.” The two parted ways, and Peter made his way to the self check out line, buying his candy and popcorn. He spent the entire car ride tracing back over the memories of his conversations with Dylan- this most recent one, and the one a few summers back.

 _Maybe he’s right,_ Peter thought, _maybe the solution to all this is to just tell Sam the truth._

The problem was, that was a lot easier said than done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow we stan morons  
> am i talking about peter? dylan? sam?  
> (hint: yes)  
> the extra chapter i added is an epilogue which im hoping to whip out pretty soon and the final real chapter is already done, so stay tuned!!  
> also i love this chapter title ngl vgjhbkjvhgbj !! and keep the comments and kudos coming theyre SO wonderful (i got one a few days ago that compared reading this to a vine and i almost CRIED SO) xox


	6. All the Time in the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

Sam still felt like he was reeling from the events of the night before, despite talking through it multiple times with Gabi. Despite the fact that she- as always- urged him to just talk to Peter- it was Sam’s idea and choice to text him about movie night.

Half of Sam hoped that Peter would some how come up with a random excuse to cancel this week, so that he wouldn’t have to sit through another night of trying not to stare at Peter. But the other half, the one that won, was thankful that his confession last night hadn’t irrevocably ruined their friendship, that Peter still wanted to spend time with him. 

He gathered his courage as best he could, standing on the Maldonado’s porch. Sam forced his thought of last night to the back of his mind- he wouldn’t bring it up if Peter didn’t. He didn’t want to be the one to make things awkward. Again. He rang the doorbell. Typically, Sam would just walk into the house- Peter did the same at his, for the most part- but it felt weird to barge in unannounced after last night. 

“Hey Sam,” Peter said when he opened the door, a tentative smile on his face, “come on in.” All Sam could think was  _ thank god for normalcy. _

They fell into the comfortable routine of prepping for movie night. Popping popcorn, Peter bringing various amounts of candy and soda into the living room, and them arguing over which movie to watch.

“I swear to god,” Sam said, “you made us watch some indie movie last month that didn’t make any sense; we are watching Lemonade Mouth. Period.” Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Sam cut him off. “You don’t get to argue, you love Lemonade Mouth as much as I do, it’s a classic, so shut the fuck up.” Peter looked like he still wanted to argue- but then again, he usually wanted to argue something- but closed his mouth and smiled a little, finally nodding in agreement. Sam collapsed onto the couch, pulling a bowl of the popcorn into his lap and cheering as Peter pulled up the movie on the TV. 

“So you’ll never guess who I ran into at the store today,” Peter said after a minute. And it was so casual and domestic that it made Sam’s heart hurt a little bit- because he could just barely imagine what it would be like to be here, with Peter, but it was  _ date night _ as well as movie night. 

He forced himself to smile, pushing away the thoughts of domestic Peter, saying only a casual, “yeah?”

“Dylan,” Peter replied, glancing at Sam with a grin. 

“Holy shit, how is the old shit bag? Still spray painting dicks?”

Peter rolled his eyes and grimaced, still frustrated- even after almost two years- that Dylan went back and vandalized Shapiro’s driveway  _ after  _ he got exonerated. “I hope not, but he’s doing good.” Peter paused, frowning at the TV, “He asked after you,” he continued, but almost as an afterthought.

Sam swore he saw a blush on Peter’s cheeks, but no- it was a trick of the light, it was too warm in here, it was something else. “Yeah? What’d he say? That you were lucky to have me follow your ass to Washington in January?” He asked, with a joking smile on his face. 

Peter looked over at him, lowering his hand with the remote to his lap, he had an unreadable expression on his face, the kind that made Sam’s stomach squirm. He felt his grin fade from his face,  _ did I say something? Is something up with Dylan? _ Peter was quiet for what felt like forever, and when he finally did speak, he looked away from Sam to say it. 

“He asked me if I was still being a fucking coward about asking you out.” Peter said, his voice so quiet that if Sam hadn’t been listening he might’ve missed it. The bottom of his stomach fell out as what Peter said filtered into recognition. 

“What?” He breathed more than said aloud, but Peter kept talking. 

His eyes were closed and he was still turned away from Sam, hunched a little defensively, “I like you, Sam.” Peter whispered, “I have since like sophomore year and I’ve never said anything because I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship, it means too much to me.  _ You  _ mean too much to me. But it hurts to see you everyday and never know if you could feel the same way.” He huffed a little in what was almost a laugh. “Did you know that Dylan thought we were dating the whole time we were taping Vandal that year?” He finally turned to face Sam. “He only found out we weren’t when we were talking the summer after and he said something about me being gay. Which he figured out on his own too.” There was that same sad laugh, the one that made Sam’s heart feel like someone was stabbing an ice pick into it. He wanted to say something, he wanted to do something, but he was frozen. Staring at Peter. “But he’s been on me to tell you since then, today included. He told me that all my reasons for not telling you the truth about how I felt weren’t  _ real  _ reasons, just excuses. And he was right.” Peter’s face broke out into a self deprecating smile, “I can’t believe I’m admitting Dylan Maxwell was right about something,” he said, shaking his head. “But I’m done with excuses. I like you Sam, and…yeah. That’s what I was going to tell you last night, but I chickened out. So I’m telling you now.” There was a beat where Sam just stared at Peter, spellbound, silent. His mind and his heart were racing in equal measure, he couldn’t believe this was real. 

“Gabi almost killed me when she found out I didn’t tell you last night,” Sam said eventually, his eyes never leaving Peter’s.

“Tell me what?” Peter asked, carefully, hopefully. 

Sam smiled so widely it felt like his face was going to split in half. “To be fair, I have you beat. Gab’s been on me about asking you out or kissing you since the day after prom. I’m pretty sure she knew I liked you before I did.” 

“You like me?”

Sam couldn’t help laughing, “Yeah, Peter.” His heart was light and air and rainbows, or some cheesy shit like that. He couldn’t stop smiling and couldn’t stop looking at Peter. Who  _ liked  _ him. 

“You should, though,” Peter said.

“I should what? Ask you out? Kiss you?”

“Either. Both.” Peter was smiling just as widely as he was. 

“Boys?” Mrs Maldonado called from the hall, before walking into the living room, “Do you want me to order pizza for dinner? Or are you ok with just popcorn?” If Peter’s mom found anything suspicious in how the two boys were sitting on opposite ends of the couch with beet red faces, she didn't say anything. Which was probably for the best, because Sam might have spontaneously combusted if she had walked in a minute later than she had.

“No thanks!” Peter said, a little too quickly, and Sam avidly shook his head to compound the point. Mrs Maldonado just smiled- knowingly?- kindly, and left the living room again. 

The events of the last five minutes hung over the room like a blanket as they caught their breath. Slowly, Peter turned back to face Sam, still sitting comically far away on the couch. His expression of mild panic matched perfectly what Sam felt sure he looked like, and just like they had the night before, they burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

“I can’t believe we wasted all that time!”

“Gabi’s gonna rub it in my face- she always claimed you liked me- I’m never gonna live it down.”

“You think you’ve got it bad? Dylan’s gonna have a field day!” 

“It was worth it, though,” Sam said, sobering. Peter nodded. “About what you said before your mom came in here… do you-”

“Yeah.” 

“You didn’t let me finish the question, asshole, how do you know what I was going to ask?”

Peter put on his serious-documentarian-face, the one he wore (even though he was off camera) to interview people for Vandal. “I apologize, what were you going to say?” He tried to keep the studious facade, but his expression kept sliding into a wide- and distracting- grin. 

Sam rolled his eyes, but scooted closer to Peter on the couch. “Pete, do you wanna go on a date? With me?”

_ “Yeah.” _  Sam could feel himself grinning like a lunatic, but at this point, he didn’t really care. “How about now?” Peter asked. 

“In your house? With your mom in the other room?”

“You’d get to watch Lemonade Mouth.”

Sam couldn’t help laughing, he was giddy after the roller coaster of emotions, but he said a resounding, “deal,” before turning back towards the TV. A smile that had nothing to do with the movie lingered on his face.

To be fair, Sam really did love Lemonade Mouth. But then again, they only got about halfway through the movie before they stopped paying attention.  He’d seen it before, anyway, and Sam didn’t have any doubt he’d see it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter title actually comes from a line i wrote that i really liked, but ended up having to scrap: "Their matching grins made it hard to kiss at first, but as far as Sam knew- or cared- they had all the time in the world." but i thought it would make a nice chapter title #lore?  
> if ur a lemonade mouth hater dont interact we dont stan im the writer i make the rules and i say sam loves dcoms. it is law  
> ok but wtf?? this is almost over???????? there's one more chapter to go but its all epilogue/fluff/cheesy bullshit (not that the majority of the fic Wasn't that to begin with) but i can't believe how fast this has gone, holy shit, and how absolutely WONDERFUL the response has been!!! thank you all so much for reading, your comments, and your kudos (we're about to hit 69 and im SHAKING) and please stay tuned for the last installment!! :')


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')

Most people wouldn’t notice the difference between Peter and Sam vs Peter-and-Sam, but Gabi Granger was not one of those people.

For one, she had been friends with Sam since they were infants, and she could read him better than any one, and secondly, she’d had to deal with him pining after Peter for the last two years. So, she, if anyone, should be able to tell the difference between a pining Sam and a dating Sam.

And she did. Which was one of the reasons she was pissed at him- how _dare_ he try to pull a fast one on her? As if she wouldn’t notice that he wasn’t miserably following Peter around everywhere, or that he flung his arm around Peter’s shoulders a bit _too_ comfortably. Gabi crossed her arms and bit her tongue, trying not to glare at Peter and Sam, sitting obliviously on the other side of the booth from her. Which was another change! Sam used to always sit with her, across from Peter. Probably so he could hopelessly moon at him without being _as_ obvious, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

“So how was your weekend?” Gabi asked, her voice forcibly chipper. She raised an eyebrow at Sam, because as far as he knew, the last she heard was that he was going to Peter’s for movie night.

Sam blushed; honest-to-god blushed, and Gabi gripped her knee under the table to keep from actually face palming. “It was good,” Sam said, carefully not looking at Peter- who had chosen that moment to look casually out the window. “We watched Lemonade Mouth, so… always a classic.” Now it was Peter’s turn to flush, and he tried to cover it up how he always did- with vigorous nodding. _Ridiculous_.

“Right,” Gabi grinned, “sounds like a nice, _uneventful_ night in.” _You know, for investigators,_ Gabi thought, _these two are far too dense to be as good at their job as they are._

“What’s up!” Dylan called out as he barged into the restaurant. Gabi winced a little- Dylan Maxwell still wasn’t her favorite person, but Peter had suggested earlier last week that they all get together- Randall and Ming were on their way- for a Vandal reunion now that she was in town for spring break. He slid into the booth next to her, blabbing to Peter about some prank he and the Wayback Boys were doing for their channel, when he stopped short out of the blue. A puzzled expression crept over Dylan’s face- one Gabi had never seen on him before- as he glanced between Peter and Sam. “Hold up… Pete, Ecklund, did you guys- holy _shit!_ ” Dylan all but yelled- causing multiple waiters and customers to glare at him, not that he noticed- pointing at the two boys. Peter shrunk back into his hood, Sam was frozen like a deer in the headlights, Dylan looked like a little kid at Christmas, and Gabi failed to stifle her laugh. “You guys _did it!_ ” Dylan continued, ecstatic in a strangely endearing way. “Pete, man, I am so proud of you, dude.” He offered up his closed fist for a fist bump, which Peter begrudgingly returned.

 _There goes any chance of subtlety,_ Gabi thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

“So, I uh, I guess the cat’s out of the bag?” Peter said sheepishly, glancing over at Sam, who was only just shaking out of a Dylan-induced trance.

“Were we really that obvious?” He asked, dazed.

“Oh yeah,” Gabi answered, speaking over Dylan, “and Ecklund,” Sam paled even further, “you have some explaining to do.” Gabi, who felt like the cat who ate the canary, leaned back against the booth and smiled, “I’m happy I was right, though.”

“No shit?” Dylan asked, turning to her, “You called it too? I’ve been trying to get Petey here to ask out his boy since the summer after graduation!”

Gabi never thought she’d be on the same side as Dylan Maxwell, but then again she never thought Sam would have the balls to say anything to Peter, either, but here they were. “You and me both, Dylan,” she said, grinning, as two in question continued to blush and flounder.

 _It was a good day,_ she thought smugly, _and about damn time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow gabi and dylan were the eldonado shippers and dream team we didn't know we needed  
> ok but its??? over??? wtf this went by so quickly and i can't believe i broke 10k omg lmao  
> thank you so much for everyone who's read through and stuck w this over the past like week or whatever it took me to write this lmao your kudos and comments mean SO MUCH!!!  
> also,,,,, i saw a post on tumblr that literally KILLED ME about how "if we were a movie" by Actual Icon hannah montana was an eldonado? song?? and i Lost My Mind SO im currently debating some bullshit emo self indulgent kinda famous/coffee shop eldonado au?? bc there isnt any au content in this tag and i live for that shit so??? would anyone be interested in reading it?? will i write it anyway?? probably lmao  
> but deadass thank you so much for reading i love yall so much and PLEASE come scream w me on my tumblr: https://grasslandgirl.tumblr.com/ !!! xoxoxoxoxo


End file.
